


They Won’t Come

by makroni



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Hostage Situation, Kidnapping, Rescue, bandits are dicks, blame tumblr, listen I had some feelings and other people were also talking about it, reassurance, so I kind of had to, vague plotline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makroni/pseuds/makroni
Summary: Molly is stuck in a cell. He’s not a valuable hostage so he doesn’t know why they keep him.





	They Won’t Come

**Author's Note:**

> acepalindrome on tumblr made some point about Molly saying his wasn’t a valuable hostage to that assassin and Taliesin remarked how Molly has never been without a group so of course they had to remark on how Molly probably doesn’t think they’d stick their neck out for them. this is what I thought about that.  
> this is done without beta made in 20 minutes no edit I have feelings

It was cold. It was dark. It was dripping. It was empty. The walls were barren, moss and rot working through he cracks they wore down in the stone. Somehow water was getting in and it kept dripping, dripping into a puddle somewhere to the right. The floor was cold and the barred wall that lead out into the hallway kept no heat in. Beams of sunlight came from down the hall, just enough to see.

Mollymauk had lost his jacket, so it was still rather cold. He didn’t know where they took it but he surely didn’t have it on him anymore. That went for his swords too, no way to cut through the hemp rope that bound his hands behind his back. 

He didn’t want to move, for once. What he wanted to do was sit and not move an inch from his position sitting on the floor. He wasn’t smiling or rocking or even thinking, really. He had his head down staring at the floor, at his crossed legs with his back against the wall and his hands bound where he couldn’t move them, couldn’t slip out. So he sat there and waited. For what? He didn’t know. For those bandits to come back and decide what to do when they realize that the group wouldn’t come for him. Yasha wasn’t with them, there was no reason.

His mind focused on the dripping and the cold because in the dark it was his only assurance that he wasn’t in the damp warmth of dirt. He focused so hard on that dripping, counting between them, that he mistook the commotion down the hall as just general clamor. People were yelling but he didn’t care. They had been yelling earlier too, arguing about what to do with him. It didn’t matter.

He heard keys and lowered his head even more, his chin almost touching his chest. He wanted to laugh. Maybe they would finally do something, maybe they realized that the others wouldn’t come.

The door at the end of the hall creaked open and footsteps echoed against the hard stone. The screams became unmuffled, but he didn’t want to focus on those. They reminded him of a group, something he was dearly missing in this empty cell.

“Do you think he’s down here?” a feminine voice asked. He recognized it. No, no he didn’t. He was hallucinating. But the accent was unmistakeable. 

There was the sound of swords changing against each other down the hall. The distinct sound of a crossbow releasing. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into that dream, leaning more against the wall as he imagined, just for a second, that the group had come for him.

“I don’t hear anything,” Caleb’s voice said in a nervous tone. “He’s not one to stay quiet for long.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jester said, a pout to her. The footsteps continued though. “It doesn’t hurt to check.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

The footsteps got closer and Molly imagined it was them. Coming closer to the cold cell as he closed his eyes and let his head fall lower.

Jester gasped as they looked through the bars. Caleb was silent, shocked as Molly sat there, back against the wall, completely silent. Jester grabbed onto the bars of the cell and shook them, hard, attempting to break through them like that.

“Go get the others,” Caleb told her before moving over to the door.

With a quick movement of his hands, a cracking sound came from the stone next to the door of the cell. A giant cat’s paw reached for the door and it’s creaking hinges before grasping around it without difficulty. It crushed some of the bars in its paw before yanking backwards, throwing itself and the door against the wall before disappearing into the stone once more.

Caleb ran towards Molly but didn’t dare get to close. He stood three feet away, waiting for the others. More footsteps came down the hall in rapid succession, running towards them. The group saw the door crumpled against the opposite wall and ran inside.

Molly sat with his eyes closed, head down, barely moving. He didn’t have his coat. His shirt looked slightly damp. His hands were behind his back, seeming bound that way.

Jester ran towards him first, putting his hands on his shoulders and casting, shaking.

Molly opened his eyes, head still down. Who was shaking him? What was happening? With a confused, cloudy gaze he looked up only to meet the blue eyes of a frantic tiefling. Behind her was the rest of them. Fjord and Nott watched from behind, also guarding the door. Caleb stood three feet away, frozen. Beau stood behind Jester, eyes watching carefully while also flickering back towards Caleb in a concerned way.

“You’re alive!” Jester cheered, worried still lacing her tone.

“It looks like I am,” Molly laughed, fighting back a cough he held from not talking for so long. “Surprised you came back for me.”

“You didn’t think we were just going to leave you,” Beau asked, “did you?”

Molly only laughed at her comment, attempting to brush it off quickly. His legs still felt week and Jester was hovering over him so he didn’t dare to stand nor move.

“We wouldn’t leave you,” Nott called from the back.

“We wouldn’t leave you!” a voice mimicked exactly.

“Oh don’t tell me you brought the bird with you,” Molly groaned. “Now does anyone have my jacket? I’m freezing over here. Also, my hands have been tied behind my back for a long time and while that’s usually fun, it’s grown rather uncomfortable-“

His complaints were smothered by something covering his vision. His heart jumped in surprised as he tried to open his eyes. When he felt the weight he started to panic slightly, moving his head around. He couldn’t move, yes, but they was probably because the rope. He could still here dripping. He could still here dripping. 

“Stand up so we can cut that rope,” Beau ordered.

“I’ve been sitting here a while now,” he mused in a playful tone, muffled by the coat that covered most of his body. “I might need some help up.”

Beau groaned and grabbed Molly’s upper arm, yanking him into a standing position that he nearly fell from immediately. He leaned slightly on Beau to support the sudden weight on his weak legs. He still couldn’t see.

Someone walked behind him and grabbed his wrists, steadying him before cutting the rope down the middle in a struggled motion. With his hands finally free, he pulled the coat off of his head and snaked his arms into the sleeves, leaning off of Beau now. 

He looked up and took it in again. Nott stood right next to the door, giving a nervous look that flickered from him to the doorway. Fjord has come closer, sheathing his sword. Beau looked annoyed but a look of relief danced on her features. Jester looked outwardly relieved and vegani talking her head off about how they got here, all of which he ignored. Caleb walked out from behind him, holding two swords, both of which he handed to Molly.

He gripped onto Beau’s sleeve once more and smiled, hoping it wasn’t just a dream again.


End file.
